


blooming (like dominoes falling)

by miramiro



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexuality Spectrum, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Qian Kun-centric, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miramiro/pseuds/miramiro
Summary: The world slowed down for Kun as the most beautiful man he had ever seen passed him by; a cool breeze on a hot summer day.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 22
Kudos: 117





	blooming (like dominoes falling)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfiction. Thank you for giving it a chance! Hope you like it.

_**one** _

  
With the air conditioner in his room blowing air more warm than cool, and the early summer heat making sweat starting at his scalp roll down his face in lazy rivulets, Kun has no choice but to step out of of his room with his favourite, yellowed paperback, worn with time and his love.

The apartment is still and silent. Dongyoung’s room is empty. Dongyoung’s friend, Yoonoh, had come over an hour ago and pestered Dongyoung into going out with him. (Technically, Yoonoh was Kun’s friend as well, but in Kun’s mind, they hadn’t progressed beyond batchmates-turned-acquaintances.) They’d asked Kun to join, but he had refused—this Sunday, he had a date with nostalgia. And not that he’d ever tell Dongyoung, but hanging out with just the two of them made Kun feel like an intruder.

Kun would think he was all alone in the house as he made his way to the front door, if not for the faint light creeping from under Taeil’s closed door. Why he needs the lights on in broad daylight, Kun neither understands nor questions. To each their own, live and let live; that has been Kun’s motto throughout the nearly two decades of his existence. He intends to stick to it for as long as he lives.

Kun makes his way to the staircase leading up to the third floor and soundlessly counts the number of steps: eleven. He knows there are eleven steps, yet he counts them every single time. He climbs up five of them and seats himself on the sixth step, shifting close to the banister so he can lean against the cool metal. A gentle breeze wafts over from the stairway landing balcony. 

Sighing in contentment, Kun flips the book open to his favourite short story in the collection. He knows every word by heart, can recite it in his sleep if he has to—that’s how many times he has read it. Kun is not one for romances of any kind, fanfiction exempted, but this bittersweet tale of a love that may or may-not-have-been is his comfort literature. Yet again, he immerses himself in the narration, as if reading it afresh, savouring each word to prolong the experience. Now, more than ever, being miles away from home, Kun needs the comfort that familiarity brings.

The clattering of sandals down the stairs breaks his reverie. Kun chose this staircase because he thought nobody used it, and especially not on hot Sunday afternoons. Nobody except him, of course, but clearly he was mistaken. The clattering sounds closer and Kun looks up—fully intending to glare at the person who dared disturb his mental trip back home to his own room with its fluffy bed and fully functional air conditioner—only to be met with a hint of a smile. The interloper dances around and past him, taking two steps at a time, until he disappears down the stairs, the clattering fading away to silence.

Kun has never been one for romances of any kind, fanfiction exempted; has never experienced it, nor chosen to understand it, too focused on making his parents proud, on planning for a successful future and executing it. Kun has never had the time for love, never taken any of the fanfiction for more than a surface-level experience of what love supposedly is. Yet here he is, gawking at the empty space—feeling as if he has been dropped into a vacuum—with his mind empty of thoughts and his heart full of unnamed, unfelt emotions.

The world slowed down for Kun as the most beautiful man he had ever seen passed him by, dressed in a half-open billowy white shirt front-tucked into solid black palazzo pants, with the multiple studs and earrings in his ears shining as brightly as his side-parted black hair. One glance at him and Kun knew this black-and-white attired man was the splash of colour he never knew he needed in his monochromatic life; a cool breeze on a hot summer day.

A faint trace of the man’s woody perfume lingers in the air, and Kun breathes it in, his ears beginning to filter in sound once more. Stunned by this out-of-body experience, he forces himself to look down at the book in his hand. The words swarm and swirl on the paper, but his eyes zero in on a few of them: _potentiality knocks on the door of my heart._

Kun needs to lie down. He shuts the book with trembling hands, stands up on shaky legs, and slowly climbs down the stairs, and steps inside the apartment. The door feels as if it weighs a ton as he pushes it shut, slowly as to not make a sound and disturb Taeil. Kun has read the phrase ‘legs turned to jelly’ a thousand times, but never has he felt it before now, as he makes his way to his room. The light is still on in Taeil’s room. After all, it has only been ten minutes since Kun stepped out, though to him it feels as if an eternity has passed, and he has aged beyond his natural life.

Kun flops down onto his bed face-first. He stays there, stewing in the heat, mulling over the sudden burst of _not-love-at-first-sight_ in his heart, until Dongyoung returns a few hours later minus Yoonoh, and drags both Taeil and him out for dinner.

_**two** _

  
Leaning against the chest-high railing of the stairway landing balcony, Kun tightens his grip on his phone, staring at the open chat with Sicheng. 

_KUN_  
_Can I call?_

_SICHENG_  
_kunnie!_  
_sorry, i’m out right now_  
_i’ll call you later?_

_KUN_  
_Sure._  
_No problem._

_SICHENG_  
_everything okay? :(_

_KUN_  
_Yeah, just miss you._

_SICHENG_  
_miss you too!_  
_talk to you later!_

Kun’s eyes blur with tears which he quickly blinks away. Nothing is okay. And he does not know whom to talk to about it. It’s such a stupid thing. They’d been graded on the assignment Kun had spent a whole week diligently working on. And his professor gave him a B saying, _Not your best work. You can do better, Kun._ Meanwhile, Yoonoh—handsome, happy-go-lucky Yoonoh—who missed classes and joked around in the ones he did attend, scored an A.

He shakes his head to dispel the vitriolic thoughts beginning to stir up. He likes Yoonoh, he really does. Yoonoh is charming and honest. Plus, he is Dongyoung’s friend, and Dongyoung is nice. Slightly intimidating at first, but nice. And it was Yoonoh who’d introduced Kun to Dongyoung and got him his room in the cozy apartment. Kun likes Yoonoh, but he couldn’t help but feel crushed. Why did his week’s worth of effort result in a B while Yoonoh cruised through with an A despite his casual, carefree work ethic?

Kun pockets his phone and rests his arms on the railing. He watches the sun beginning to set, then buries his face in his arms. It feels hot. His eyes are welling up with tears again and the material of his cardigan is scratching his face. He blinks a few tears into it anyway. What Kun needs right now is an outlet. He needs to vent, to be listened to, and to be told that it is okay to feel this way, that Kun isn’t a bad person for hating Yoonoh just a tiny bit. But Kun has only kept in touch with Sicheng after high school, and right now, Sicheng is busy. 

Kun hasn’t made any friends yet in college. He has tons of acquaintances collected during the first year but he can’t divulge something so personal to them. Although he supposes, Dongyoung is a friend now, as is Taeil. But Kun can’t bitch about Dongyoung’s friend to Dongyoung, and he doesn’t want to disturb Taeil when lately he looks close to dying because of his Mathematics major. He can’t share this with his parents either. There is no way his high-achieving parents would understand his turmoil; he’d probably be scolded for the subpar grade.

With no more tears falling, Kun looks up, watches the sun set, and wonders if the beautiful man is watching it too, somewhere. After that fateful encounter nearly three weeks ago, Kun has taken to reading on the stairs, hoping to see the man again, but not once has he shown up. Maybe he was a figment of Kun’s imagination, Kun thinks sullenly. 

The _ding!_ of the elevator doors opening alerts him and he looks over his shoulder. It’s the beautiful man, and he is clutching on to the arm of another man. “Ten,” the other man whines. “Please, please can you reconsider? I’ll pay you if you like!”

The beautiful man— _Ten, Ten, Ten_ , his mind supplies—laughs. It’s light and airy and feels right for Ten, as if there was no other kind of laugh that would be more fitting for him. “Nope! A bet is a bet, Yuta. Don’t worry, I’ll make you look super pretty,” Ten states gleefully. 

Kun will go mad; Ten’s voice is as beautifully sing-songy as his laugh, as ethereal as his beauty. This is what poetry in motion looks like, Kun thinks. He slyly watches Ten drag Yuta up to the door and unlock it, before pushing the resisting man in. Ten follows him inside, his laughter abruptly cut off by the door shutting behind him. 

Kun looks away immediately, his cheeks burning, a smile playing on his lips. All of his frustration from earlier has vanished, replaced by a bubbling happiness that Kun does not quite understand—how does Ten, a stranger, make him feel as buoyant as he normally does after a good, long hug. Maybe that’s Kun’s touch-starvation acting up, but Kun wants to hold on to this feeling, wants to experience more of it. He wants to know Ten so bad.

“Kun!”

That’s Dongyoung’s voice. Kun turns to see him standing with 3 large pizza boxes in his arms, while Taeil unlocks the door, a large bottle of cola tucked under his arm. Kun rushes down the stairs to help them. The trio walk in and Dongyoung sets the pizza boxes and the bottle of cola on their coffee table.

“What’s the occasion?” Kun asks.

“Taeil’s treat,” Dongyoung says. 

“You two have been taking care of me these past few days, so I thought I’d surprise you guys today,” Taeil adds, smiling. He pats their shoulders, and goes to wash his hands. 

“I’ll just get freshened up. Do you mind setting the table?” Dongyoung asks. Kun shakes his head no. Dongyoung smiles at him and goes to his room. The warmth in Kun’s heart bubbles and overflows. 

Maybe this is what the Ten effect is. A sense of positivity and a touch of good luck.

_**two point five** _

  
It wasn’t often that the three of them could relax together like this. The first month in the apartment was awkward for Kun, not being social by nature and having flatmates who were fully immersed in their own lives. But during dinner, it felt like they’d finally struck a nice balance amongst themselves. They were friends.

Dongyoung had shared the shenanigans his younger brother, Jeno, had gotten up to with his friends at school, while Taeil talked about his boyfriend, Youngho—who went by Johnny—a film student and Youtuber. Kun was amazed to know how Taeil juggled his studies and his relationship. Clearly, he managed well, since he and Johnny had been dating for two years. Kun talked about Sicheng, and felt a fresh wave of fondness for his friend as Dongyoung and Taeil nodded along and commended him for managing a long-distance friendship right out of high school.

They must have been collectively famished, Kun thinks, for only two half-eaten slices remain of the three pizzas. The cola bottle is three-quarters empty. A companionable silence reigns over the apartment. Taeil is seated sideways in an armchair, texting, while Dongyoung is lying on the sofa, his feet hanging over the armrest. He hums to himself, rubbing his belly. Seated on the other armchair, Kun smiles—Dongyoung is probably the only one who regrets gobbling up so many slices. Kun himself feels overstuffed but content. 

Pulling out his phone, Kun opens Instagram. He hesitates when he sees the blinking cursor in the search bar, then quickly types in ‘Ten’ and scrolls through the results, hoping to find—there he is— _tenlee_1001_. The display picture has his face partly obscured by a red rose, but it’s undeniably him. Nobody else could look so compelling in a tiny thumbnail. 

Kun hovers his finger over his profile, a feeling of trepidation building in his chest. Does he want to find out about Ten this way? Is this not akin to stalking? He clicks on his profile. Well, it’s not private, so anything Ten puts on here is what he wants to show the world, right? If Kun scrolls through his profile and spends an ungodly amount of time staring at every photograph, it’s fine, isn’t it?

Taeil’s laughter comes as an answer to the question he was asking himself, so Kun looks up. Taeil is grinning while furiously typing on his phone. Kun smiles. It’s nice to see Taeil looking happy. Kun goes back to Ten’s profile when Taeil suddenly laughs out, “Ten is such a menace!” Kun whips his head up, feeling as if he were caught red-handed stalking Ten.

“Hm? What’s that?” Dongyoung cracks an eye open. 

“Youngho sent a video, wait.” Kun marvels again at how fond the usually reserved Taeil sounds while talking about his boyfriend.

Taeil gestures at them to come over. Dongyoung and Kun do as told and gather around Taeil’s armchair, leaning over it to watch Taeil fiddle with his phone. Kun catches sight of Youngho’s _Babe!♡ A sneak-peek for you!_ in the chat before Taeil clicks on the video attached.

A handsome man’s face fills the frame. “Hello Joh-fam!” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “We are here for another episode of Johnny’s—whoa why is this so zoomed-in—” The camera zooms out of Johnny’s face to reveal him standing in what looks like an art studio. “There you go. Johnny’s Communication Center!”

Kun only hears bits and pieces of what Johnny says as his eyes zero in on Ten in the corner pouring black ink into the two clear plastic cups Yuta is holding. How does everything Ten does look elegant as if he is dancing and not functioning the way one normally functions? Kun is not a clumsy person, but next to Ten, he feels he might as well be.

“Yuta here,” Johnny gestures at Yuta, who waves at the camera, “has made a bet with Ten—” Ten winks. “Whoever writes their name in calligraphy first while holding the paintbrush in their mouth, _and doing a handstand_ wins! And the winner gets to choose which colour the loser will dye their hair, and the loser must keep the colour for a minimum of a week.”

Ten wiggles his shoulders, while smirking at Yuta. Yuta rolls his eyes. 

“Are you guys excited? So am I! Let’s go!” Johnny chirps while flashing a million-dollar smile at the camera—Kun notices the soft smile on Taeil’s face at that—before he switches to filming Yuta and Ten putting sheets of paper on the ground each and taking their places in front of them.

“Yuta ready?” Johnny asks. Yuta gives him the thumbs-up. “Ten ready?” Johnny asks next.

“I was born ready.” Ten looks so mischievous. Kun fears for Yuta.

“All set then,” Johnny calls out. “Begin!”

The two dip their paintbrushes in ink, put the wooden ends in their mouths, and do a handstand. Johnny seems to be holding his breath behind the camera as much as Kun, Taeil, and Dongyoung are while watching the scene unfold. Adjusting their proximity to the papers and manoeuvring the brush onto them, Ten and Yuta begin their strokes. 

While Yuta struggles with the Kanji, Ten paints a cross, adds shaky flourishes and exits his handstand with a flip. Pulling the paintbrush out of his mouth, he holds his hands up high in triumph. “Done!” he yells. Yuta drops the paintbrush as his mouth opens in surprise. “Wait, what—” Yuta loses his balance but manages to land on his butt.

Johnny goes closer to the paper. Ten has drawn an X. “What the fuck! What is this!” Yuta yells. Johnny bursts into laughter behind the camera while filming Ten giggling. “I won! I won!” Ten begins jumping up and down in glee. “No, you didn’t, that reads as _juu_ in kanji and not ‘ten’!” Yuta shouts. 

“What? No, this is not kanji,” Ten states, a little confused. Yuta frowns.

In between bouts of laughter, Johnny states, “It’s the Roman numeral for 10. He still won, Yuta.” Yuta’s flabbergasted expression fills the frame. “That’s cheating!” Yuta retorts. 

The camera flips to a smug Ten as he replies with, “You said ‘calligraphy’, you didn’t specify kanji.” Now Johnny’s laughter in the video is accompanied by Taeil and Dongyoung laughing. Kun can only stare in amazement, mind boggled at how Ten’s brain works.

“Nooo, my hair!” Yuta whines, wailing exaggeratedly while beating the floor. Johnny switches the camera to himself, and mimics a news reporter, stating, “Joh-fam! Stay tuned to find out Yuta’s new look!” The video cuts off. 

“Here’s Yuta,” Taeil says, as he pulls up a photograph from the chat. Yuta is trying to block the camera, but he cannot hide his neon green hair with a large streak of neon pink in the front. Taeil and Dongyoung laugh out loud, even Kun can’t help but giggle. 

Just then, Kun’s phone rings. It’s Sicheng. Kun says his goodbyes to his flatmates and goes to his room to pick up the call. He can’t stop smiling. Sicheng needs to hear about this. 

Ten is mesmerizing, and Kun is utterly under his spell.

_**three** _

  
Kun hums to himself as he chops spring onions into fine pieces with practiced ease. He hasn’t cooked for the pleasure of cooking and feeding himself something he likes since he left home for college. Anything more complicated than noodles felt like a chore, more emotional stress than physical; Kun chalked it up to belligerence that came as one of the stages of homesickness. But today Kun woke up feeling refreshed and decided he would make fried rice—the special recipe his parents had perfected together—and went out early to get all the ingredients he required.

Kun has the apartment to himself. It’s a Sunday, and Taeil is out with Johnny, while Dongyoung was once again forced to accompany Yoonoh. He had protested long and hard about wanting to catch up on the drama he’d missed due to the assignments piling up, but Yoonoh had pouted at him, which somehow made his dimples stand out even more, and Dongyoung couldn’t possibly say no to that. Kun chuckled to himself as he thought about it, moving on to chopping onions. A breeze drifted in from the open front door. It looked like it might rain, but even the heavy downpours that had started a week ago could not dampen Kun’s mood.

Summer was slowly transitioning into autumn, Kun’s classes were going well, he hung out with Dongyoung and Taeil often and they’d even been accompanied by Yoonoh and Johnny a couple times (and Kun hadn’t felt like an intruder), and most importantly, Kun had seen Ten on and off in the apartment complex, on the street, and once, near his college building. Catching a glimpse of Ten made Kun feel like he was walking on clouds the whole day, and when he could not see Ten, scrolling through his Instagram account refreshed Kun like nothing else. 

Kun couldn’t help but wonder how one single person could be so gifted. Not only was Ten gorgeous, but he also radiated an inner warmth that drew people in. Kun was blown away by Ten’s art and his dance covers. The ones featuring both him and Taeyong, a dance prodigy, were the most popular, but Kun liked Ten’s solos the best. Kun didn’t have the words to express what Ten made him feel as he watched the complex emotions Ten portrayed via his dance. But even more than that, more than the model-esque, aesthetic photographs Ten posted often, Kun loved the scattered photographs of Ten with his friends and his grumpy-looking Siamese cat, Louis. Ten looked the happiest in those, and that, in turn, made Kun happy.

He had pondered for long about whether he should hit ‘Follow’ but finally decided against it. Sure, it wasn’t a big deal; Ten had thousands of followers, and Kun would just be one of them, an unknown entity that Ten would never know about. But that didn’t feel right to Kun. Not to mention, it might be weird if Taeil or Dongyoung—or worse, Johnny—found out. He really liked Johnny. He liked how happy he made Taeil, and how welcome he made Kun feel the time he third-wheeled their date. Though he had started watching his JCC vlogs hoping to see more of Ten, he had quickly been charmed by the fun content and Johnny’s warm, bubbly personality. 

Simply put, Kun is happy. He smiles to himself, thinking about how even Sicheng had commented on the stark contrast between the stressed Kun when he had started college and the Kun who spoke to him in a light, cheerful manner. What can he say—life felt worth enjoying. Kun is glad to be alive.

Kun lights the stove. Placing the pan on it, he coats it with oil. It is time to start making the special sauce. Kun thinks of calling his parents to check the recipe with them but decides to give his memory a shot. Maybe he’d end up creating something new, something of his own. Kun has a smile on his face as he lets the finely chopped onions simmer before adding other ingredients and mixing them with the spatula.

Something furry rubs against Kun’s bare ankle and Kun shrieks, nearly dropping the spatula before managing to steady himself. He looks down and meets eyes with the culprit. A cat. Kun doesn’t know the names of enough colours to describe the exact shade of the cat’s coat, but to him, it looks like a mixture of honey, mustard, and ash. Or something. The space between its ears is as black as its dilated pupils. Cute. 

It doesn’t look like it wants to scratch him, so Kun crouches down. The cat swishes its tail. It’s really cute. Kun tentatively extends his hand, fingers curled into a loose fist. The cat takes a step back but seeing Kun hold his hand still, it seems to realize that Kun means no harm, so it comes closer and bumps its head against Kun’s fist. Kun’s heart melts.

“Hey, kitty,” he croons. “Where’d you come from?” The cat meows in response. Kun lightly scratches its head which the cat seems to like. It looks too well-groomed to be a stray, so maybe it belongs to someone in the apartment complex. But who? And how does Kun make sure the cat reaches its owner. Kun’s doorbell rings once, and then twice in quick succession. 

“Think it’s your owner?” he asks the cat, scratching its chin. The cat gives his palm a lick. Kun smiles, then gets up and makes his way to the open door. 

He is not prepared to come face to face with a distressed-looking Ten. 

“Hi, hi, sorry. Have you seen my cat? I saw your door was open so maybe—have you seen him? He’s like, cute, and tiny, and- and- cute,” Ten says in one go. “He just ran out of the door and- fuck- he answers to Leon, and-” Kun is struck speechless, but the cat runs up to Ten, probably responding to his name, or having noticed his owner; or both.

“Baby!” Ten scoops Leon up and cradles him in his arms, smacking kisses on his forehead in relief, before he suddenly holds the cat at a distance and glares at him. “Such a naughty boy, Leon! Daddy nearly got a heart attack!” Leon meows, clearly knowing which weapon to use from his arsenal of cuteness to melt Ten’s anger, because Ten immediately hugs the cat again, pressing a long kiss onto its forehead.

Kun is still rooted to his spot. This overdose of an adorable Ten with his adorable cat, Leon, is too much for Kun to take. And then Ten flashes a megawatt smile at him, and Kun nearly passes out.

“Thank you! I was so worried. Leon hasn’t done this before, I swear he loves me and wasn’t trying to escape. So sorry for the trouble!” Ten bows his head. “Thank you, again.” He turns and heads up the stairs. Kun can hear his praise-scolding getting fainter.

Kun blinks himself out of his daze. He takes a step back and shuts the door, and rests his back against it, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Did that just happen? Did Kun really come face-to-face with Ten? Did Ten really speak to him and smile at him? And did Kun really just stare at him like an idiot? Kun wants to curl up and die. How embarrassing! 

Suddenly, Kun smells something burning and frowns before his eyes widen and he rushes to the kitchen. Turning the stove off does not salvage his sauce. Kun stares at the burnt matter. Well, you win some, you lose some, right? Kun bought enough of the ingredients, he can just start making the sauce all over again. 

Smiling serenely, Kun gets to work.

_**four** _

  
Kun could have been happy right now. Kun could have been celebrating because his end-semester exams had just gotten over. Kun could have been at Ten’s house, partying, because Johnny had invited him. Kun could have gotten a chance to play with Leon, to strike up a conversation with Ten. If nothing else, Kun could have been getting drunk right now.

Yet here he is, still dressed in his old t-shirt and shorts, lying on his nicer outerwear clothes spread over his bed, holding his phone in hand, feeling a tear roll out the corner of his eye and making its way to his ear, and doing nothing to stop it. Kun could have been happy. But he was a mess. 

He reads over Sicheng’s last message again, just to torture himself.

_SICHENG_  
_i’m sorry kunnie_  
_but i need a break._  
_if you’re only going to talk about this ten person_  
_i don’t want to hear it_  
_at least for a while_  
_sorry._

When Kun had excitedly messaged Sicheng about the immense potential the night held as he wondered which clothes to wear, he did not expect Sicheng to sound so curt as to prompt Kun to ask what was wrong. Sicheng had let rip about how Kun’s new obsession ate up the conversation every single time and Sicheng could never tell Kun anything he wanted to share with him because he did not want to burst Kun’s happy bubble, but he had had enough now. 

Kun re-reads the messages again. In retrospect, he does not blame Sicheng. When he read his texts about Ten, he really did sound obsessed, and now his obsession had driven his closest friend away. Kun’s nose twitches, his lips trembling as more tears roll down his face. He hopes at least the others are having fun. 

When he’d made up an excuse of feeling too tired to attend the party, Dongyoung had offered to stay back with him. It was nice to know he cared, but Kun had urged him to go to the party and relax. Taeil and Johnny had been equally concerned and had told him numerous times to give them a call if he needed them. Kun had nodded gratefully, fighting to hold the tears back and keep a smile on his face as he saw them off.

Turning in bed, Kun buries his face in his pillow and cries. He cries until he can cry no more. Finally, feeling empty of tears and emotions, Kun gets up. He goes to the bathroom and washes his face. His eyes are red and swollen, but the cool water feels soothing. Stepping out, he checks the time. 10 p.m. The party must be on, still, but he needs fresh air. He pulls on a pair of jeans and changes into a different t-shirt, then combs his hair and sprays some perfume, inhaling it deeply. It is somewhat calming. 

Grabbing his wallet and keys, Kun makes his way to the door. Faint thumping beats can be heard as he steps outside. Taeil and Johnny are sitting on the stairs, making out. Johnny notices him as he shuts the door, and pulls away from Taeil. Taeil chases his lips but Johnny gently pushes him away, though he keeps an arm around his shoulder.

“Why’d you stop, you bastard?” Taeil slurs. Johnny smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Kun’s here, baby,” he croons.

“Sorry, I’m just going to go,” Kun says, feeling embarrassed.

“Kunnie?” Taeil blinks blearily, clearly drunk. “Are you better now?”

“Um, yes.” Only Sicheng has ever called him ‘Kunnie’. Kun tries for a reassuring smile but it ends up as a grimace. Johnny notices.

“Are you sure, Kun? Where are you going?” he asks.

“Thought I’d take a walk.”

Taeil buries his face in Johnny’s neck and mumbles, “Eaten?” It takes a moment for Kun to decipher what he said, but before he can answer, Johnny speaks up, sounding apologetic. “Sorry, beer pong got out of hand.”

“I’m not drunk!” Taeil whines, trying to punish Johnny by getting out of his arms. “Sure you aren’t, darling.” Johnny sounds so fond, even as he draws a struggling Taeil in.

“Did he lose badly?” Kun ventures.

“No, he won,” Johnny laughs. “Taeil is a champ at beer pong.”

“I am!” Taeil states triumphantly before going back to snuggling against his boyfriend.

“He won 8 to 2,” Johnny says. “But my baby is a lightweight, so those 2 beers were enough to get him drunk.” Taeil grumbles at that so Johnny presses another kiss to Taeil’s forehead.

Kun laughs, before he sobers up, looking at Taeil guiltily. Johnny mouths _It’s okay_ at him. 

The elevator doors open with a _ding!_ to reveal Dongyoung screaming “I’ll beat his smug ass! That pink-haired bitch!” with his head thrown back, while leaning on Yoonoh. 

“What happened?” Johnny asks. “Last I saw him, he was speaking to Taeyong.”

Yoonoh helps Dongyoung over to the stairs and makes him sit down. Dongyoung immediately leans against the banister, hitting his head against it. “Ow!” he shouts, then settles himself against the banister, looking pleased with himself.

“I don’t know actually. One moment he was speaking to Taeyong and the next moment he declared him his sworn enemy and challenged Taeyong to a fight on the rooftop. I had to drag him away before things got out of hand.” Yoonoh shakes his head.

Kun can’t believe his ears. He didn’t take Dongyoung as someone prone to physical violence.

Johnny laughs. “Youngho, stop moving,” Taeil mumbles, so Johnny suppresses his laughter. “What’s all this, Dongyoung?” he asks, voice laced with mischief.

“He was being annoying,” Dongyoung grumbles. “I wanted to fight him and put him in his place but Yoonoh didn’t let me.” He glares at Yoonoh at that, then pulls out his phone when it pings, and types something in quickly. “Hah!” he shouts triumphantly. “But I got Taeyong’s number and we postponed the fight.”

He shows them his calendar app, the coming Friday marked with _‘fight pink bitch tae’_.

Kun bursts into laughter. His flatmates—no, his friends—are so funny. He wants to hang out with them, get drunk with them. The ache in his heart is stronger than ever. As if reading his mind, Johnny asks, “You haven’t eaten, have you, Kun?” 

Kun shakes his head no. Even the thought of lying feels exhausting. Johnny smiles at him.

“Let’s go get a bite to eat, then. I’m hungry too.” He looks at Taeil dozing off on his shoulder and states, “Taeil won’t mind either.” He looks at Dongyoung and Yoonoh. “You two?”

“I’m down,” Yoonoh says. “Me too,” Dongyoung agrees. “I used up all my energy on Taeyong.”

“That’s settled, then. You guys go wait by the car.” Johnny says, then shrugs his shoulder, nudging Taeil. “I’ll bring Sleeping Beauty here downstairs.” 

Taeil only buries himself further in Johnny’s neck. Johnny gives them a sheepish smile, then whispers, “Babe, wake up,” in Taeil’s ear, causing Taeil to lightly smack Johnny’s cheek before straightening up, and stretching his arms above his head. Johnny pouts at him, so Taeil caresses his cheek and pecks his lips once, and then again. They look seconds away from another makeout session. 

Kun looks away and locks the door while Yoonoh helps Dongyoung up. Holding on to Dongyoung with one arm, Yoonoh slings his other arm around Kun as they make their way to the elevator. “Come, what do you feel like having?” he asks. Kun feels a rush of fondness for his secret rival. The elevator doors closing swallows up his answer.

_**four point five**_

  
Kun did not imagine his night ending with him lying in bed—right on top of the clothes he hadn’t bothered to fold and keep in his closet—still in his jeans and t-shirt (now with a salsa stain on it), staring up into the darkness. The room is illuminated by the faint moonlight. Kun stretches his arm up and flexes his fingers. Human. The way they should be. Normal. The way Kun is. So why doesn’t he feel like it?

Johnny had taken them to a quietly bustling pub, where the food was great, the music wasn’t loud and obnoxious, and they could all hear each other clearly enough to hold a conversation. The atmosphere in their group’s little bubble felt electric, and Kun, feeling charged up, agreed to do shots with Yoonoh and Dongyoung, Taeil, and Johnny not partaking—Taeil, because he preferred beer, and Johnny because he had to drive. 

Two shots in and Kun couldn’t keep up with Yoonoh and Dongyoung who started competing against each other. Kun marveled at their tolerance, downing one shot after another, especially since they had already had a bit to drink at Ten’s party. They would have continued after the sixth shot had Johnny not stopped them and forced them to eat and hydrate. Kun smiled as he sipped his beer. It felt good to be out.

Propelled by liquid courage, Kun even performed a few magic tricks that left everyone amazed. Johnny had asked him if he’d like to feature on an episode of JCC where he would teach Johnny a few magic tricks. Kun had shyly said yes. Basking in the praise (coupled with the food and alcohol) made Kun feel happy and mellow inside, so instead of talking, Kun chose to listen. 

Yoonoh started telling them about Johnny abruptly ending the Paper Kissing chain because he deliberately blew the paper away and kissed Taeil on the mouth. Ten had howled at them to take their “gross, couple-y shit away from my party.” (So that’s why they were making out on the stairs, Kun thought to himself.) Johnny laughed and winked at them, then shared a flirtatious look with Taeil who narrowed his eyes and told Johnny to shut up. Johnny ignored him. Tradition, he called it, reminiscing about meeting Taeil at a party during freshman year, and accidentally kissing him during the Paper Kissing game, after which they spent the rest of their time at the party making out in a corner, before going to Johnny’s place to have sex. 

That sparked a conversation about relationships. Romantic, sexual, romantic and sexual. Past and present. Sexual anecdotes dominated the discussion. First time, last time— _yesterday_ , Johnny smirked, earning a punch in the shoulder from Taeil—kinks and desires, and potential candidates (for Yoonoh and Dongyoung). 

Kun kept quiet throughout, receding more and more into his shell he thought he had come out of for good; one, due to feeling a conditioned embarrassment at his lack of experience, and two, due to his growing discomfort. Is that what he was supposed to fantasize about when it came to Ten? He didn’t want to. It was uncomfortable to even think of. Kun felt like an outsider all over again, felt like running away. Johnny, too sober for Kun’s liking, noticed.

The spotlight was turned on Kun. Probing questions about past or present experiences, whether he had his eye on anyone, whether he wanted them to set up a date for him. Cornered, Kun said no to all, his heart pounding in his chest. Dizzy, he felt dizzy. In his heart, he knew his friends meant well, but his mind was sending distress signals to the rest of his body. Before Kun could do anything stupid that would put his new friendships in jeopardy, the server informed them about the pub’s closing time: in 5 minutes. 

Kun heaved a sigh of relief as they got busy splitting the bill, but remained in a daze throughout the car ride back to the apartment. Yoonoh and Johnny decided to crash there. Kun said his _thankyou_ s and _goodnight_ s and swiftly retired to bed.

Turning over in bed, Kun buries his face in the pillow. He remembers the one conversation he had had with Sicheng, back in high school, about liking girls, liking boys, _liking_ people. He’d asked Sicheng to explain what he meant when he said he _liked_ both girls and boys, and Sicheng had explained the concept of sexual attraction to Kun, as best as he could. Kun nodded along, trying to break it down logically in his mind to understand it, but Sicheng had picked up on his lingering confusion. 

_It’s okay to not understand it, Kunnie_ , he’d said. _Maybe you’re asexual._ Kun had frowned at how alien it sounded and dismissed it. They’d moved on to talking about hopes and dreams, the upcoming examinations (that held the power to crush those hopes and dreams).

Kun thinks about Ten. He is certainly ‘attracted’ to him, but not in the way Sicheng had explained, or how Taeil and Johnny were attracted to each other, or the fleeting fancies Yoonoh and Dongyoung had talked about. Kun wants to know Ten as a person. What makes him laugh, what makes him sad. What makes him angry, what pacifies him. What he likes, what he dislikes. What makes Ten _Ten_. Kun wants to understand Ten and Kun wants to understand what he is feeling. 

Kun pulls out his phone, ready to text Sicheng, but then pauses on seeing the last message. Sadness mixes with the confusion in his mind, an angry concoction. Kun thinks of texting Sicheng, accusing him of—something. Not being a good friend, maybe. If Kun couldn’t tell his closest friend about his feelings, who else was he supposed to go to? His violently bubbling rage simmers down immediately. If he wants Sicheng to respect his feelings, he should respect Sicheng’s feelings as well. And Sicheng wants space. Kun will give it to him.

The Internet is the next best thing. Kun spends the next fifteen minutes reading up on attraction and the lack of it, and the following hour on using his newfound knowledge to understand himself. 

Aesthetic attraction? Check. He finds Ten beautiful; his beauty was what caught his eye in the first place—the half-smile Ten had bestowed on him, a stranger, that day on the staircase. Emotional and Intellectual attraction? Check and check. That’s why Kun has been so hung up on Ten, instead of dismissing him as a rare pretty face that caught his eye momentarily. Sensual attraction? Does he want to touch Ten? He looks like his hugs are as warm as his laugh. So. Maybe. Romantic attraction? No idea. Sexual attraction? No. 

So that makes Kun— _Asexual_ , he thinks, sounding the word out in his head. It might change, the way Kun knows he might change, but for now, to soothe the turmoil that had risen in his heart and mind, the word sounds right. _I am asexual_ , Kun thinks. Yes, it feels good to attach that label to himself.

“I am asexual,” Kun whispers into the darkness, exhaling shakily. He breathes in and out, deeply. With a smile on his face, Kun closes his eyes, ready to fall asleep.

The world will keep turning, tomorrow will be a new day, and Kun is asexual.

_**four point seven five** _

  
Kun dreams of meeting Ten on the staircase, of Ten remembering him from the Leon incident. Kun dreams of Ten noticing his favourite paperback, and confessing to loving it equally. Kun dreams of striking up a friendship with Ten, of revealing to Ten all that he means to Kun. Kun dreams a _dream._

The incessant ringing of his phone wakes him up. Eyes heavy with sleep, Kun gropes for his phone on the bed and finds it just as the ringing stops. Bringing it close to his face, Kun frowns. 5 missed calls from his mother. At 5 a.m. The phone rings again. Suddenly alert, Kun sits up and answers the phone.

“Kun!” his mother sobs. “Kun, come home!” 

“What? Mama? Mama, what happened?” Kun asks frantically.

There is a brief shuffling, and Kun hears his uncle’s voice saying, “Kun, take the earliest flight home.” Why is his uncle there so early in the morning; he lives an hour away? And why does he sound so grave?

“What—” Kun starts. His uncle cuts in with, “Your father is no more, Kun.”

Kun can’t breathe.

“He passed away in his sleep,” his uncle says. “Your Mama noticed when she woke up in the night to drink water. I’m sorry, Kun. Please come home. Your Mama needs you.”

Kun swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes blurring with tears.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Cutting the call, Kun jumps out of bed. 

He haphazardly packs his essentials in a backpack and steps out of his room. Throat feeling parched, he makes his way to the kitchen to drink some water. _That’s how his mother discovered her husband was dead._ Kun’s hand shakes as he grabs the closest ceramic mug and fills it with water and brings it to his lips. _Did his mother get to drink water before discovering her husband was dead?_ Kun loses his grip on the mug and it falls to the ground and breaks, the water spilling everywhere.

It made a sound. There was a sound, right? So why didn’t Kun hear anything? He stares at the broken mug. Dongyoung, ever the light sleeper, comes running into the kitchen.

“Kun, what—” He takes one look at Kun with his backpack, frozen at his spot, tears streaming down his face, and pulls him out of the kitchen. Kun lets himself be dragged over to the sofa and into Dongyoung’s arms. The warmth of the embrace makes everything real. _Kun’s father is dead._ Kun sobs into Dongyoung’s shoulder.

Taeil steps out of his room, rubbing his eyes. He stops short at the scene in front of him, and then quietly takes a seat on the sofa beside them, and rubs Kun’s back soothingly. “Kunnie,” he says softly, after a while. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

“My dad died,” Kun hiccups out. “I need to go home.” 

Taeil keeps rubbing his back, while Dongyoung tightens his arms around Kun. After a moment, Taeil stands up. “I’ll wake Yoonoh and Johnny up,” he tells Dongyoung.

Dongyoung gently rocks Kun, as he begins to calm down. “We’re here for you, Kun,” he tells him. “We’ll come with you to the airport.”

“You don’t—” Kun starts, breaking free of Dongyoung’s embrace. “Sshh,” Dongyoung shushes him and wipes his tears away. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” 

Kun nods. 

“Then let us do at least this much for you.”

Kun tries to smile, but it comes out watery. He is going to cry some more. While Dongyoung goes to change his shirt, Yoonoh takes his place, holding Kun and petting his hair. Johnny rushes out, car keys in hand, followed by Taeil. He joins the hug and holds them until Dongyoung emerges. They step out. Taeil locks the door, then they take the elevator down.

As the elevator doors open, Kun catches a flash of Ten rushing up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Kun’s eyes well up with tears. Taeil ushers him into Johnny’s car and they drive off.

_**five** _

  
Getting bored of watching partly-familiar roads pass him by, Kun leans his head against the window, only for the cab to come to a sudden stop. Kun sighs. The traffic is as bad as ever. He closes his eyes and lets his mind drift.

Kun doesn’t feel the lingering sadness he thought he would feel. He hadn’t cried even once after the funeral, too busy being a shoulder for his mother to cry on. That makes Kun feel guilty. The way they depict grief in films—crying for days, staring longingly at the deceased’s photographs, talking about them, sharing fond memories—Kun didn’t want to do any of it. He had tried to force himself to cry, but his lacrimal glands just refused to cooperate. Sicheng had told him that grieving wasn’t the same for everyone, but for once, Kun thought bitterly, just once, Kun wanted to be a part of the ‘everyone’ that formed the majority. Not that there was anything Kun could do about it. 

Thinking about Sicheng makes him smile. They had made up—of course, they did. Sicheng had cried and apologized and Kun had told him there was no need to do so, but Sicheng had insisted. They spent nearly every day of Kun’s summer break together. Kun came out to him a week after his father’s funeral. _You were right_ , he told Sicheng. Sicheng told him he was happy for Kun, and he was. They hugged for a long time. It has become a fond memory Kun will treasure for life.

Yoonoh had added Kun to a group chat featuring him, Dongyoung, Taeil, and Johnny. They checked up on Kun often, sent funny memes, and had long heartfelt discussions. Sicheng was pleased to know he had made friends, actual _friends_ , people he knew he could count on. For a long time, Kun had only had Sicheng to call a friend. But now he had four others. 

_Sometimes, if you’re lucky_ , Kun thinks, _life will soften its cruel blows by giving you something precious in return for taking something precious away_. Kun was grateful. Happy even. The guilt remained in his heart, but he ignored it. So what if it felt blasphemous—Kun wanted to be happy. Life went on. 

What remained of his father but his belongings, his photographs and videos, and the people he left behind? In a distant plane of existence, Kun’s father might not even exist, and yet Kun might be the same. Kun feels comforted at that thought. The universe is far too vast and life is far too short to explore it. The only thing Kun can do is believe in its mysteries.

The cab comes to a stop in front of Kun’s apartment complex. Huh. Was the ride too short or did his musings take too long? Who can say—the relativity of time is a mystery Kun has chosen to believe in. Kun pays the fare and presses the call button for the elevator. Taeil and Dongyoung would be waiting for him at home— _home_ —Kun’s home away from home.

The elevator doors open and Kun steps inside but hesitates to press his floor number. If there was one thing Kun could change, he’d want to have one last conversation with his father, hear him say that Kun made him proud, hug him goodbye. 

Kun presses the number for the floor above his. 

_**five point five** _

  
Kun can feel the thumping of his heartbeats in his ears as he rings Ten’s doorbell. He doesn’t know what he is going to say, but he is going to say _something_.

The door opens and Kun’s heart soars—only to drop when he sees Yuta. 

“Yes?” Yuta asks.

“Um,” Kun forgets his words. “Is—is Ten here?”

“Ten is in Thailand.”

 _Right_ , Kun thinks. _Home for the summer._

“When will he be back?” Kun asks, a touch of hope in his voice.

“He’s not coming back.” Yuta frowns. “He was here for one semester only, as part of the student exchange program.”

Oh. 

Kun smiles at Yuta. “Sorry for bothering you.” 

Kun dashes down the stairs without waiting for Yuta’s response. His front door is open. Kun enters. Dongyoung who had been dozing on the sofa wakes up at the sound of the door closing. He smiles a brilliant smile at Kun and calls out, “Kun’s home!” Taeil steps out of his room, arms outstretched. Kun lets himself be enveloped in the warm embrace. 

His eyes brim with tears but they don’t fall.

_**x equals question mark** _

  
Taeil moves to Chicago with Johnny. A few years after Kun’s graduation, Kun attends their wedding, elated to be with Taeil and Johnny on one of the most important days in their life. It feels just like old times. All his friends are present. Ten is unable to attend and sends his heartfelt wishes through a video. 

Kun flies out a day later, on the day of the reception, sorry to miss out on the party, but helpless in the face of work commitments. Ten flies in an hour after Kun’s flight departs. He delights in the surprise on the faces of the happy couple and their mutual friends when he shows up at the reception.

On the day of Kun’s first book signing at a prestigious book store, Ten has his latest art exhibition in an equally prestigious gallery, a short distance from the book store. 

After the signing is over, Kun grabs a coffee at a nearby cafe, before leaving to catch his flight home. Thirty minutes later, Ten enters the cafe.

Kun buys a house for himself thirty minutes away from the hustle and bustle, and cacophony of the city. He needs his peace and quiet to write. But hot summer days aren’t conducive for creativity, Kun has discovered. So he takes his favourite paperback to the porch to read. The book is more battered than ever, but Kun treasures it and takes good care of it. The pages are all intact. He loses himself in the words, but a sudden noise makes him look up.

A car pulls up in the driveway of the house next door. It must be his new neighbour. Kun had noticed furniture and other essentials being moved into the house over the past two days. The car door opens and a man steps out, wearing a loose flowery shirt untucked over a fitted pair of ripped jeans. 

_Sometimes_ , Kun thinks, _despite the infinite paths to choose from—_

The man spots Kun and waves at him, smiling a megawatt smile. 

_Despite the numerous twists and turns that can be taken—_

“Hi!” he calls out when Kun raises his hand, palm up, in greeting. “Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul,” he introduces himself. “But you can call me Ten.”

_Life comes full circle._

“Qian Kun,” Kun smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Kun is reading On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning by Haruki Murakami, found in the short story collection, The Elephant Vanishes.
Johnny's JCC introduction is lifted verbatim from JCC Ep. 18.

> 
> I am so _so_ nervous about this. I did not tag Asexuality initially because I wanted to keep the discovery as gradual for the readers as it is for Kun, but I have since updated the tags. I cannot speak for anyone else, but Kun's discovery is based on my own personal one. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is welcomed and would be appreciated! (Please be gentle, though, ahaha.)
> 
> [My TWT](https://twitter.com/gummieistrying)   
>  [My CC](https://curiouscat.qa/gummieistrying)
> 
> I'm new to both, haha. Come talk to me!


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